


if our love was a song

by nonsensicatty



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Homosexuality, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Tags and Warning may change with additional chapters, suggestion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7115179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsensicatty/pseuds/nonsensicatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Song inspired little one-shots detailing all the cute, fluffy, smutty, angsty, and otherwise juicy moments of Alec and Magnus’ budding relationship.</p><p>Latest Chapter: Without Fear, in which Mangus Bane comforts a weary Alec Lightwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hands to Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my collection of Alec and Magnus ficlets! A couple of things before we get started:
> 
> 1) As you might have already guessed, each chapter is titled and inspired by a song or snippet of a song. These are the cute little ideas I’ve got bouncing around my brain but am too lazy to turn into a full blown fic, so length will vary. 
> 
> 2) These moments in their relationship are not in any chronological order. Where the setting of the relationship is meaningful, I will make it known. 
> 
> 3) Warning, Ratings, and Tags will change as the work expands. That being said, I do plan on writing for anything and everything from smut to fluff. Forewarning. 
> 
> 4) These chapters are not meant to build upon each other and should not be taken that way unless otherwise stated. I plan on updating this work with random, disconnected slices of Malec heaven between my other works for the fandom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alec Lightwood struggles to keep his hands off Magnus Bane.

_All of the downs and the uppers_

_Keep making love to each other_

_And I'm trying, trying, I'm trying, but I_

_Can't keep my hands to myself_

_My hands to myself_

[-Selena Gomez](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5auRrNeBDMc)

 

 

This was becoming downright ridiculous. Pathetic even.

It was practically the hundredth time that day and it wasn’t even noon. He was better than this – stronger than this. A Shadowhunter. He went out and fought hell spawn on a daily basis, he should not be this easily disarmed. And yet. Here he was, supposedly one of the best and brightest on this side of the portal, effectively reduced to a floundering puddle of indignation by nothing more than a pretty smile and a pair of kholed eyes.  

This was pitiful.

Twenty years of grueling, blood-curdling experience on the streets of New York amounted to nothing against the cavalier grin of Magnus Bane. And what a fitting name, too. A sick irony. As the glittered warlock, currently strutting around the Institute in his dazzling hues of blue and purple like a painted peacock, truly was the bane of Alec’s existence.

The poor boy tried to focus on the conversation buzzing around him, but failed miserably, as he had been for some time now.

Somewhere in the distance he could hear his brother and sister recounting the success of the mission. Hear their comrades ask questions and provide input. Even Clary pipped up from time to time. Alec knew this was vital information being passed about, quite possibly the difference between life and death next time he and his team went out on the field, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Too caught up by the man across the room, who – though he played it off better – was equally uninterested in the topic at hand.

It was a special kind of torture to be so close to the object of one’s desire and yet so (infuriatingly) far. One Alec was being subjected to more and more frequently. It was becoming a weekly ritual as of late for all of the noteworthy faces of New York’s Shadow World to get together and bicker in the name of cooperation. Usually it was just one big headache Alec would rather avoid, expect for the rare occasions that the High Warlock of Brooklyn had a gap in his busy schedule and adorned the warmongering horde with his presence. Those days, Alec didn’t mind as much. Today was once such day, which had been thankfully free of pointless arguments and ear-shattering shouting, leaving Alec plenty of time to stare at his handsome warlock.

Said man was busy speaking, on and off as the conversation went, briefing the Institute’s most elite on relevant threats and dangers of the Downworld, but Alec wasn’t listening. As handsome and captivating as Alec knew Magnus’ mouth to be, his gaze was fixated much further south. It wasn’t exactly noticeable, but it was definitely there. With the way his hips artfully swung, twirled, and dipped, it was almost impossible to spot. But the movements were just a tad too stiff, forced even. They were hiding something. A small tent, one which Alec smirked at every time those hips angled themselves just right and he caught a peek. Not that Magnus’ strange, baggy pants afforded much clarity as to what was happening downstairs, but Alec knew what he was looking for. He was responsible for it.

Just as Magnus was responsible for the thrumming itch that was forming on Alec’s collarbone, jeweling a brighter ruby red with each passing second. Heat prickled behind it like an ember burning into his skin. Trying to pass through flesh and bone to reach the smoldering wildfire roaring in his core, racing in his veins. Those flames were fanned by the lithe shape of Magnus’ hips, the snatch of skin that flashed with every dramatic sway.

Buried in the crooks of his elbows, Alec’s fingertips prickled and palms sweat.

Oh how he longed to return his hands to those sinful hips. To feel the way Magnus’ lean muscles flexed and roiled beneath layers of silk and cotton. To pull them against his own and follow them into oblivion. They’d been so wonderfully flush against him not twenty minutes ago, Alec needing the pulsating pleasure more than the air in his lungs. He felt his own pants tighten at the memory. Searing kisses being burned into his throat; dexterous fingers weaving through both hair and clothing; lascivious moans fallen from swollen lips. It’d been a brief eternity that Alec enjoyed Magnus’ supple skin and harsh hips, before they were rudely interrupted by his grinning parabatai and younger sister.

Alec hadn’t thought it possible to turn so violently red (at least, not without Magnus’ help).  

“Alright,” a booming voice finally announced, regaining a modicum of Alec’s attention as the room fell silent in response, “I’ve heard enough for one day.” There were a few more meaningless platitudes and pleasantries, maybe even another question or two until eventually, _finally_ , “Dismissed.”

It was like a rubber band had snapped. He felt himself propelled forward, surging through the dispersing horde of black-clad, grumpy faced Shadowhunters with fierce determination. Alec didn’t break from Magnus’ glimmering gaze as he blew past both peer and subordinate, carelessly shoving aside any who were unfortunate enough not to see him coming. This only served to fuel Magnus’ smirk, which in turn fueled Alec’s lunging strides.

He was there in only a short handful of seconds, but it felt like a miserable lifetime since Alec had Magnus melting into him. So distraught over this, Alec didn’t even bother to pause and stammer awkwardly as he reentered Magnus’ presence again. He asserted himself boldly – threateningly – as if he were a predator who’d finally cornered his prey.

“Why hello there,” the handsome warlock purred as Alec once again crowded his space, stretching up to bring himself as close to Alec’s mouth as was socially acceptable. Which was still _much_ too far for Alec’s liking. But at least at this distance, Alec could watch as hungry eyes took in his grimy attire with barely concealed excitement; the stench of a day’s worth of hunting and a mountain’s worth of slaying still rising from his bloodied clothes. “You’re absolutely filthy, my dear,” Magnus teased, earning one of Alec’s lopsided smirks, the kind only caused by a blossom of starlight in his chest.

Normally, that endearing little smile would be Magnus’ only reward for such a comment. Alec was painfully aware of this fact, his inhibitions lodging in his throat to block any confidence that might hopelessly well up. However, Alec was much further gone than he typically was when Magnus employed his eloquent little jests, which helped rid him of his usual restraints.

“Funny, you didn’t seem to mind earlier,” Alec quipped lowly, uncharacteristically brazenly (though he did glance cautiously around the room as discreetly as he could manage. Which was a truly disgraceful display for a solider of his caliber.)

Magnus didn’t miss a beat though, pleasantly displaced, his glamoured eyes flashing with newfound delight. “Well,” he began with an elegant lilt, carefully gauging Alec’s response as he took the man by the belt loops and tugged him just a fraction closer, breaths mingling, “can you really blame me? I was a _bit_ distracted.”

The tiny compliment did wonders for Alec’s stern features, softening his face with an unguarded smile and pleasant hum of approval. Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last long, Alec’s gaze catching on Magnus’ smug smirk and the blazing flames of desire consequently eating away at what little patience he had left.

“Can’t imagine why,” he tried, attempting to further stimulate the conversation he was only partly paying attention to, but it was a struggle for him to voice it, arousal causing his throat to swell and choke his words.

Magnus must have noticed somehow; he read Alec with the same ease as he did one of his many tomes. Graciously, he ended the verbal foreplay, leaning in close to ask with cautious bravado, “So, before another familial menace descends, what do you say we take this back to my place? Pick up where we left off?” Though it was a genuine request, Magnus meant it mostly as a formality; he knew his answer. Alec’s flushed cheeks and unsteady breaths left no room for doubt. However, when there was no immediate response, Magnus added with slight apprehension, “After you freshen up and finish whatever business you have left, of course.”

But still there was only silence between them – not necessarily uncomfortable, but unsettling none the less. Their faces so close, Magnus could only catch a glimpse of Alec’s eyes, searching them for a reply, but all he found were lust blown pupils. Dark and hooded, locked on his mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he chuckled softly, pulling back so that Alec’s gaze meet his own, looking lost and frantic, “not when I can’t do anything about it.”

But Alec’s angelic endurance was exhausted, his stout resistance to Magnus’ little charms and taunts thoroughly expended. Removing his hands from whatever useless space they’d been before, Alec took Magnus’ wrists and leaned down to his ear, breathing labored and distraught as he huffed, “No apartment. I can’t wait that long.”

It was a simple statement and a silent plea all in one, falling from Alec’s lips in such earnest – such sincerity – it left him winded. But the air he struggled to draw in with shaky gasps couldn’t sate him. He was smoldering, burning away from the inside out. The wildfire had spread uncontrollably. It was no longer a fire he could extinguish, only feed, and _oh_ did it hunger. Alec knew what he needed, _who_ he needed.

“Good,” Magnus admitted wearily, trying valiantly to resist his own fires, “me either.”

Alec pulled himself from his haze just enough to register their surroundings, the oblivious crowd still chattering mindless around them. “I think there’s a supply closet at the end of this hallway,” Alec offered breathlessly, looking up to glance over Magnus’ shoulder at the distant door. It seemed an awfully long ways away, but Alec couldn’t fathom the trip back to Magnus’ apartment – portal or no.

“Alexander,” Magnus admonished unconvincingly, trying for teasing but falling somewhere closer to desperate, “might I remind you that I am The High Warlock of Brooklyn. Bordering four centuries old. I will not deign to hiding in a closet like some hormonal teenager. You must have taken one too many blows to the head this evening, darling.”

“You really think we can make it to a bedroom?” Alec balked, glancing incredulously towards the multiple flights of stairs, winding halls, and disgusted glares that separated them and the nearest bed.

“Oh heavens no,” Magnus relented with a flippant giggle, “that’s on the entirely other side of the building. Forget what I said. The closet will do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> This chapter is hopefully the first of many. I have so many half-formed ideas for these two that I don’t want to fully flush out and turn into an entire fic. Not that I can’t, but it’s tedious, and half way through the process I end up quitting because it’s less fun for me. So this work and all subsequent chapters are going to be cute little one shots meant to contain the essence of an idea and skip past all the boring pretenses. 
> 
> Also, Magnus’ line “Don’t look at me like that, not when I can’t do anything about it,” was totally stolen. 100% not my own. Link to the amazing fic from whence it came [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6637078/chapters/15185128). I believe the original line is from somewhere in chapter fourteen. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and feedback of any sort really are love :)
> 
> \- Nonsensicatty


	2. Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The which Alec Lightwood wakes to a snoring Magnus Bane.

_In the morning when I wake_

_And the sun is coming through,_

_Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness,_

_And you fill my head with you._

_Shall I write it in a letter?_

_Shall I try to get it down?_

_Oh, you fill my head with pieces_

_Of a song I can't get out._

[\- The Paper Kites](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4XdnD5c334)

 

He woke as he did every morning – on his back, body bare and limbs tangled blindly throughout the bed. Vision blurred. Breath foul. Mood even more so.

Waking was never a pleasant experience for him. Not that sleep did much to alleviate the constant tension in his shoulders or the permanent frown on his face, but it was a temporary reprieve. So typically this was the part where he’d roll over and start to fervently curse the world, as the sun crept through the thick curtains and stabbed mercilessly at his sleep fogged eyes. Only, it wasn’t a typical morning. The light didn’t stab at him as he reluctantly flopped to the side to greet the day, instead it flittered in gingerly, lingering peacefully at the foot of the bed. The sheets wound around him weren’t rough and worn, rubbing at his skin like sandpaper, rather they were silky and fresh. His limbs weren’t sore from a hardened mattress and restless night, but rather tingled pleasantly with a weightless bliss that threatened to drag him back into the depths of unconsciousness. 

All these stark comparatives were so blinding that it actually took him a moment to realize that it _wasn’t_ his room he woke in. Another moment still and he was quite sure of himself. No. Alec was definitely not in his room.

His heart faltered for a beat, and he scrambled to think back to his last memories of the night before. Though they were little more than fuzzy snapshots of kholed eyes and soft smiles, they were enough – he could recognize them as instinctually as he could his own reflection.

He was in the loft. Magnus’ loft. The tension and frown lessened slightly…

He really should have realized it sooner due to the fact that it was such a nice morning. Slow and lazy. The kind where he wasn’t startled awake or called to duty at an ungodly hour. A true rarity in his line of work.

Just a few months ago it’d have been reason for panic, waking in the wrong room with the sun already peeking out from beyond the horizon. A few months ago he’d have risen with the bubbling frustration of a morning lost. But the young Lightwood had made tremendous progress as of late, something his sister so frequently commented upon.

Not that he’d ever admit it, to himself or otherwise, but Alec was slowly becoming quite fond of these lethargic type mornings. Not because sleeping in was something he’d never experienced and had somehow managed to change his world or because he particularly liked wasting a perfectly good morning. None of that. Instead, Alec was fond of these mornings because of who he could waste them _with_. 

Fond of the leg slipped daintily between his, ankle hooked over the back of his calf; the fingers pressed tenderly into base of his abdomen, twitching loosely as Alec shifted further into them; the face tucked sweetly into the crook of his neck, warm breaths moistening his sleep-kissed skin.

Oh how _very_ fond he’d grown of waking to this. The perfect nothingness of it all. To have the scent of sleep and sandalwood wrapped so firmly around him, clinging to his skin and seeping into his soul. To find his lungs filled with a sugary sweetness, one that flooded his system and drowned him from within.

It almost made him too heavy to move; not that Alec would have dared move anyway. He’d made that mistake the first few times he’d woken like this. Though he was sure the sight of Morning Magnus snuggled softly into his back was something truly breathtaking (as if there were ever a time Magnus was anything but), by time he managed to shimmy onto his back and pull far enough away to see, he’d ruined the moment and found a golden glare waiting for him.

Suffice to say, Alec had quickly learned, though not fast enough, that Magnus was most definitely _not_ a morning person.

So Alec was left to wait, too comfortable in the haze between sleep and consciousness to fully give in to either extremity. He watched the sunlight tentatively crawl up the bed, setting the pristine sheets and the sporadically exposed limbs alight. He thumbed affectionately at knuckles atop his navel, admiring the striking contrast of porcelain and bronze. He listened contentedly to the soft snoring of the body beside him, struggling not to chuckle at the occasional catch and snort.

Well, perhaps snoring wasn’t the right word. Snoring implied rough and ugly – Magnus was incapable of such things. It was humming, more like, the sound wafting delicately through the loft with a distinct singsong quality. A song Alec knew would remain fragmented in his head for the remainder of the day.

He had always regarded it as a curse, his inability to enjoy an extended period of slumber. No matter how wonderful the night ended or pointless the next day promised to be, Alec simply could not rest longer than that which his body minimally required. A small handful of hours was all he needed before he was on his feet and slaying demons again, much to Magnus’ dismay. However recently, Alec had begun wondering if his curse was one of those blessing in disguise he’d heard people sometimes talk about.

 _He_ certainly loved spending the beginning of his day waiting patiently for his lover to wake. Almost as much as he loved waking him. Of course, he reveled in the nothingness for a good while longer. Until the birds began to invade the silence and the sun waded just below their collarbones, threatening to disturb the peace if it rose any higher.  

Then – and only then – did Alec shatter the moment. Return the suspended reality back into time and wake his sleeping warlock.

Gently, _carefully_ , Alec untangled a hand from the sheets and took Magnus’ from against his stomach. His hand was warm, as was Magnus’ but the magic thrumming just beneath the surface was warmer still; sparks falling like drops of sapphire fire onto the bed. Alec slowly lifted the hand to his lips, peppering kisses there until he felt Magnus stir against him.    

“Good morning beautiful,” Alec murmured against Magnus’ palm, pressing more tiny kisses there as it moved to cup his cheek.

“Good morning, indeed.”

It wasn’t the sort of morning Alec was used to, but oh how he wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello again! 
> 
> Thank you so much for returning for chapter two. Truly it means the world to me – the hit counter represents the number of times my heart stops in a day. Leave me a little something to let me know how you liked it. I know this was just pointless fluff, but it had to be written!
> 
> More on the way :)
> 
> \- Nonsensicatty


	3. Work From Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alec Lightwood decides Magnus Bane needs a lap dance.

_I know you're always on the night shift_

_But I can't stand these nights alone_

_And I don't need no explanation_

_'Cause baby, you're the boss at home_

_You don't gotta go to work_

_But you gotta put in work_

_You don't gotta go to work_

_Let my body do the work_

[\- Fifth Harmony](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GL9JoH4Sws)

He’d had a plan.

A schedule, more like. A way the day was supposed to flow – start to finish. Well, as much of one as Alec Lightwood could formulate around demonic nuances and familial menaces. Point was, he _did_ have one. Albeit a cramped schedule, but purposefully so, rushed and frantic so that come the end of the day he could be on a certain warlock’s doorstep. Free of commitment and obligation, able to simply spend the night with his boyfriend. Evening clear. Morning even more so. The perfect way to celebrate whatever pointless mundane holiday he’d been told was up in coming.  

Everything about the day had gone just as he’d wanted it to. Early rise, early finish. Even had enough time to collect the twenty bucks Isabelle had bet that he wouldn’t manage it all. He’d cleaned himself up with record speed, left the Institute before sunset, and had waited patiently outside his lover’s door with an arm full of takeout and a heart full of expectations.

What he hadn’t planned on, hadn’t anticipated, was Magnus’ busy schedule.

Honestly, he should have known. Even though he didn’t care for the holiday, of course the rest of the world did. Meaning Magnus would have a long line of desperate clients all in dire need of the High Warlock’s assistance (which they’d received, for _astronomical_ holiday rates). Alec hadn’t even considered it, this being their first actual holiday together.

That’s how he ended up alone on the couch, leg bouncing away mindlessly and food chilling on the countertop. The last rays of sunlight receding out the city-lit window opposite him and the blazing colors of orange and red disappearing behind the dark New York skyline. He could even feel his hastily applied cologne, the one that drove Magnus wild, beginning to dissipate.

“What a waste,” Alec muttered absently to himself, silently wishing Magnus would hear his distress and come to the rescue. But the man was unreachable in his glided cage of an office, buried behind mountains of books and papers a mile long, only his face visible from his seat at his desk.

Alec watched him work with barely concealed disappointment, huffing out a sigh that seemed to rock the apartment around him. Not that Magnus would notice – he never did.

Not this deep into it, anyway. Alec could tell by the way the smaller man scrambled, tearing through tomes and loose bound pages like a madman, that he was beyond saving. Too lost and too swamped to recover from the wreckage he had amassed over the past twenty four hours. All Alec could do was watch helplessly from afar.   

Which he usually did, quietly offering coffee and food periodically throughout the long night until one or both of them crashed from exhaustion. But not tonight; tonight he’d no sympathy for his beloved. Even though he was partly to blame for the situation. Admittedly, had he checked with Magnus beforehand, this catastrophe may have been avoided, but still he was furious.

This was most definitely _not_ part of the plan.

So after a great long while of wordless pining and whining, Alec resigned to his fate and sulked over to his forsaken takeout, now cold and clammy in its Styrofoam packaging. It was a miserable meal, spent at a lonely table with a single, solitary glass of alcohol (just something random and bright looking from Magnus’ ever-stocked collection). He’d almost found himself winded from chewing and sighing with such fervent frustration, still holding out for his knight in shining armor to turn the corner and help salvage their evening.

But he didn’t, wouldn’t, and Alec couldn’t really blame him for it. Work was work. He _was_ the High Warlock of Brooklyn, after all; that came with almost as many responsibilities as the Head of the New York Institute. Alec’s frustration was unwarranted – undeserved, even. He knew that. How many times had he bailed on a date or canceled a night out on account of work? He’d lost count somewhere during the first week of their relationship. Magnus however, never did. No matter the hour, he always found time for Alec’s hectic coming and goings.

So really, he couldn’t be mad at Magnus. But he was; Alec’s conscious acknowledgement of how hypocritical that was put his stomach in knots. And just like that, dinner was over. His appetite fled. Which was probably for the best, as somehow Ethiopian just didn’t taste as good without a glittering warlock beside him.

So he shoved the food aside with a disgusted groan and returned to the couch.

Feet propped up on one arm of the furniture and head on the other, Alec hoped Magnus’ view would be enticing enough to drag him from his office. But he didn’t even look up. Valiantly, Alec tried with a few more pleading looks and dramatic sighs before he finally gave up, deciding to make the best of his situation and catch up on the hours of sleep he’d skipped the night before.

Unfortunately, that plan fell through as well.

 

 

His sleep hadn’t lasted very long, nor had it been very restful.

In fact, he woke in an even worse state than before. His cheeks were flushed, heart racing, blood raging; his blush crawled from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest, where he could still feel phantom lips mouthing at him. A sharp contrast of scorching heat and blunt teeth.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see it – them. _Him_. Disheveled and desperate, pleading for release, relief.

For a long moment Alec was frozen in place, stunned as he stared at the ceiling in shock, wondering if he’d honestly just dreamt what he did. His first instinct was to deny it, shove his lingering thoughts aside and insist to his sleep-fogged conscience that he didn’t! Unfortunately, the bulge in his pants assured him that he did.

“Great,” he sighed agitatedly, digging his palms into his eyes to try and dispel the lingering images. He didn’t need this right now. Didn’t want it. What he needed was an actual bed. A soft mattress and some cool sheets to help alleviate some of the stabbing pain in the small of his back and nape of his neck. He should have known better than to fall asleep on the couch. It never ended well for him. Groggily, Alec began to untangle his gangly limbs from the cushions, frustratedly kicking off one of his captured socks he couldn’t free. But his sleep deprived muscles failed on him and his grip on the furniture faltered, landing him on the floor with a rough thud.

Of course. Because this day was cursed.

“Alexander?” came a quiet voice from the behind him, soft and unsure.

Alec peered up from his spot on the hardwood towards the study, finding the light still on and the mountain of work still looming. His frown somehow managed to intensify. Beyond the library’s worth of books and pages, he could see Magnus squinting into the darkness after him, brown eyes searching feebly.

“Darling, is that you?” Magnus whispered, as if he were afraid he’d disturb the night.

Alec would have smiled at that, filled with his usual sense of contentment at Magnus’ presence… were he not so angry all of a sudden. Yes, angry. Furious even! A strange emotion to feel mixed with exhaustion, actually, it was a combination that left him feeling even more drained, but he couldn’t help himself. Nor could he say how many hours he’d slept, though judging by the still nothingness that had settled over the apartment, it was now the first few of a new day. Regardless of the hour, Alec knew it was a time for sleeping. Snuggling. Maybe even for cuddling. Not for waking up from a perfectly good wet dream and _certainly_ not for working.

Invigorated, Alec rolled off the ground and onto his feet.

Enough was enough. Plan or no, holiday or no, this was not how he wanted to spend his night. This was not how he was going to allow it to go! He somehow, against all odds, _miraculously_ , managed to acquire the largest gap of free time he’d found himself with in years. Rather than sit around and sulk through it like he normally did, he finally had someone to spend it with and plenty of ways to enjoy it. And yet, here he was sulking it away on the couch as his boyfriend worked the night – now morning – away.

No. Just no.

“Alec?” He hadn’t even registered that he was moving until he staggered awkwardly into Magnus’ office, knocking into a mound of books as his brain worked to catch up with his body and his eyes adjusted to the light. “Alexander!” Magnus exclaimed as he took in the spectacle before him. Thankfully Alec couldn’t see the look of horror there, “Are you alright?”

Once his sight had returned to him, Alec found Magnus with ease; the man sat in the eye of the storm, untouched by the devastation around him. Well, mostly untouched. When Magnus had answered the door the night before he was cool and composed, done up despite the fact no one but Alec was going to see him. Elegant and refined. What sat before him, gawking up at him with wide eyes, was a mess – a beautiful disaster. Taught shoulders, bruised eyes, and disheveled hair. He’d stripped of his fine garments somewhere along the way and took up one of Alec’s tattered tops and a pair of simple boxers. Not that Magnus wasn’t perfect in anything that he wore, but this was downright painful to behold.

It wasn’t a very handsome look, nor appropriate for a man of his age and prestige. He seemed small in his office, dainty even, like a child dwarfed by everything around him. The entire scene splayed about him looked wrong, offensive. The masterpiece that was Magnus Bane reduced to nothing but an exhausted husk sitting in a too big chair, behind a too large desk, burdened by a too big responsibility. It weighed down his tiny shoulders and twisted Alec’s stomach.

“What are you doing?” Alec bit out, harsh and sharp. At Magnus’ immediate confusion, his skin prickled, blood spiked. “Why aren’t you in bed yet?” he clarified strenuously. He felt like a mother hen, clucking pointlessly. He knew Magnus’ answer even as the man paused to formulate it.

“I’m still working,” Magnus responded casually, obviously missing the hard edge in Alec’s tone. The tension in his jaw. It was like he was still trying to discern Alec’s appearance – no doubt he looked like hell warmed over after a nap on the sofa, but in his defense, Magnus didn’t look much better. The warlock asked concededly, somewhat dazedly, “Why are you up? Weren’t you sleeping?”

“I was,” Alec admitted, propping a shoulder against the doorframe and jutting a hip to the side the way his siblings did when they were upset with him. He hopped Magnus felt the bone-chilling fear that always settled in his gut when he was faced with such a sight. “Care to explain why you weren’t?” he challenged, brow arching.

Magnus must have finally noticed the ire of Alec’s glare, because he sat back with a visible swallow, suddenly cautious, “I can’t yet, love.” The response was timid, the endearment added as a deterrent, as if Alec were a ticking time bomb waiting to go boom. But Alec wouldn’t let himself be disarmed so easily.

“Why _not_?” He tried hard not to cringe at the very Isabelle-like snap his voice made, going high and threatening. Magnus flinched at it.

“Dear,” he tried wearily, sounding defeated even though he continued to protest, “I can’t go to sleep yet. I still have a lot left to do tonight.”

“Today,” Alec corrected hotly, as he gestured towards the windows opposite them. Behind the New York skyline, the pitch dark of night was fading, morphing into that pale grey of dawn, “Today, Magnus. It’s morning.”

“What?”

As Magnus was distracted with trying to peer past his desk to spot a clock, Alec struck. Wordlessly, he barged into the room, barreling through the towers of leather bound nonsense and shoving aside mounds of aged parchment. Be it Magnus’ lack of sleep or Alec’s skill as a Shadowhunter, the young man somehow reached the desk without difficulty. With a speed and precision only years of training afforded, he loomed over the four-legged death trap and bore down on the man it held captive. By which point Magnus was panicking.

“Put this away,” Alec begged as he tried to dismantle the towering spires that’d built up around his boyfriend. But Magnus’ hands hurried to stop his, wrenching back books from his grip and returning them to their previous spots. As if the scattered madness had an order. “Come to bed. Please, babe,” Alec pleaded, his voice coming out far softer than he intended; too desperate sounding for his liking. But Magnus paused at it, if only for a moment, and then went on about panicking.  

“Alec, stop. I- I can’t.” He fought off Alec’s hands as they cleared his desk, swatting them away much like Chairman did when he didn’t want attention. Harmlessly and without heart, but still, the point was made. And Alec went from moving, picking up and setting aside gently, to practically tossing handfuls over his shoulder. This served to send Magnus into an even greater panic, but Alec couldn’t care less. The books and parchments were no doubt priceless, some probably older than Alec would ever live to be, but they were worthless to him – nothing more than infernal devices that kept his boyfriend from snuggling with him.

 “You can,” Alec insisted, “it’s easy.”

“Alec!” Magnus shrieked, trying to catch some of the debris as it fell. Towers of books toppled and fell, scattering around their feet, but nothing deterred Alec. He was a man on a mission, and Magnus was resisting every second of it, squirming and flailing in a way most unbecoming of a High Warlock. In a reckless attempt and with careful precision, Alec caught Magnus’ wrists, pulling them into his chest as he planted himself down atop him.

Now. Were either of them running on more than only a few hours’ sleep, they might have acknowledged the monumental leap that had been made on Alec’s part. It wasn’t much, sure, given the many adventures they’d already had in Magnus’ great four-poster bed (and living room, and kitchen, and shower…). However, this was an advance Alec made all on his own – something quite out of the ordinary.

Typically, Magnus liked to immortalize these moments as little victories against years of negative conditioning. Precious jewels he kept horded away in the deepest recesses of his consciousness. He might have teased and Alec might have flushed. Maybe they’d had even noticed the multiple advantages and disadvantages the new position afforded them both, especially considering Alec’s predicament. But they didn’t.

Instead, Magnus struggled for a moment longer, bucking and trying to shove off the weight Alec tried to pin him with. Meanwhile Alec worked to immobilize his boyfriend, bracketing his hips with his thigs and hooking his elbows over Magnus’ to lock them against him. But their hips collided, Magnus’ snapping up just as Alec’s rolled down, and they both realized what they’d previously missed. Effectively stilling them both...

“…A,” Magnus began, his resistance faltering and words failing him. The gears in his head slammed to a stop, reversing and rewinding sluggishly before stuttering forward again. It was a long moment before Magnus reattempted, though his voice was no less shaky and his question no more sure. “Alec?”

But said Shadowhunter couldn’t meet his lover’s gaze.

Instead, he fixed his hazel eyes on a nowhere spot above them, chest rising and falling in rapid tandem with his furiously beating heart and thrumming pulse. His eyes, which were wide as saucers, fought to avoid Magnus’ until the man finally gave up and eventually turned his attention downwards. Alec could just barely see Magnus’ brow furrow as he struggled to comprehend what was happening, mouth opening to speak again.

But he wasn’t given the chance to, because without warning, Alec repeated the motion.

It wasn’t as jarring as before, just a spark of friction between them. Nothing compared to the fire that was starting to pool in Alec’s gut – the blood that rushed south, leaving him dizzy. But it was enough to steal a moan from his lips.

“Alec,” Magnus huffed out on a breath, shaky and unsure. An acclamation as his body moved to accommodate Alec’s. The sound was like a shot of adrenaline that caused Alec’s hips to surge forward, seeking more, more, _more_.

Were his mind not so foggy, Alec might have berated himself for how sporadic and sharp his movements were, muscles taught and breath coiled in his lungs. He was downright rigid, despite the smoldering fire that threatened to melt him from within. Nothing like what he’d been in the dream, where he’d moved atop a writhing Magnus with fluid confidence. In the real world, which was becoming painfully more vivid with each frantic gasp, every twitch and tweak was harsh. Uncomfortable even.

It was a dull sort of burn he’d conjured, what with all the clothing and fumbling, but it still made the fire blaze. His lower lip quivered between hard teeth and his stomach clenched. The chair trembled with his ministrations as Alec tried again and again to find the heat his body was craving. To fuel the flames threatening to consume him. He rocked his hips slow and steady, grinding them down against Magnus’ this way and that, up and down, hard and soft, until –

“Alec!” Magnus gasped, his hands fisting in Alec’s shirt and head snapping back as his eyes screwed shut.

But Alec barely noticed Magnus’ distress, lost to the pleasure tingling in his limbs and the excitement rising in his throat. He felt all the tension dissolve and the anxiety dissipate. It still wasn’t perfect – not quite what the first bolt had felt like – but it was still enough to streak stars across the backs of his eyelids. Brilliant and blinding.

He paused. Giving them both a moment to breathe – painfully ragged sounding and depraved – before greedily, Alec moved again, carefully precise, and his entire body was set alight!

“Alexander,” Magnus groaned, this time articulating his full name with slow and deliberate concentration as his head fell against Alec’s collarbone. The young man might have panicked at the sincerity that burned in the single word, the adoration, had he not grown so accustomed to it. So addicted to it. “Don’t,” Magnus panted heavily, trembling with the effort it took to breathe, hot breath fanning over Alec’s clammy skin, “…don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Alec admitted with a strangled laugh, hands moving from Magnus’ wrists to his shoulders, gripping tight as he rocked himself forward again. “Oh shit,” he hissed on an inhale. The fire beneath his skin raged, seeping into his veins and scorching his bones as he moved. Again and again, grazing just right against the slow building pressure he felt growing beneath his own erection.   

“ _Darling_ ,” Magnus whispered, pressing desperately sloppy kisses to the dip of his throat. More teeth and tongue than anything else. “Wh- _ah_ -at’s gotten into you?”

“I’m… oh,” head tipping back and neck straining, Alec stammered, “I-I’m tired of work.” He dug his fingers into the blades of Magnus’ shoulders, trying to prove himself, “please. No more work. So tired.”

“Mhm…,” Magnus hummed appreciatively as Alec ground down again, “you don’t seem tired to me.” It was an attempt at teasing, a joke meant to startle a chuckle from Alec, but it didn’t quite come out right. Dripping with too much desire and need to be mistaken for light heartedness; though, neither of them cared. In fact, the silent confirmation of Alec’s effect on his lover only fueled them on, electing more groans and gasps. Magnus’ hands untangled themselves from Alec’s loose hanging shirt, smoothing down his sides to caress his hips. His deft fingers dug into flesh and bone as he nudged Alec down harder. Faster.

“Ah! Magnus,” Alec panted as he bucked into Magnus’ grip, that tiny added pressure jolting through him like a lightning bolt. Blindly, moving only to chase the scorching heat, Alec gripped the top of Magnus’ wingback chair and heaved himself down with newfound determination.

“Yes, love,” Magnus praised, pressing the moist words into the skin of Alec’s throat, “just like that. Right there, darling. _Oh_ , don’t stop.”

But Alec did. He pulled back violently, suddenly, shocking Magnus from his daze. Though he’d not the chance to protest before Alec smashed his lips over Magnus’.  Alec worked his tongue over the seam of Magnus’ lips, pushing past to taste the man further. Deeper.

Magnus groaned mindlessly as Alec sat back on his knees and his hands shot downwards, delving beneath Magnus’ waistband. Said warlock didn’t even have time to register before he felt a too tight grip wind around his cock, pulling him up as another hand pushed his boxers down. Or at least, tried to.

“Magnus,” Alec rasped as he struggled hopelessly with the silky fabric, “off. Want these off, now.”

“Alexander,” Magnus growled, still too caught up to process.  

“Magnus, _now_.”

And just like that, whether Magnus did so consciously or not, their clothes were gone. They vanished with an audible pop and a spray of blue. Without warning, the two were left bare and balking as the assortment of their clothes appeared in the corner of the room, folded neatly and landing with a muted thud.

Alec returned to Magnus’ glazed gaze with a triumphant smirk, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Magnus allowed himself to drown in the sight before him for all of one second before he whined deliriously, “I said don’t stop.” And Alec quickly remedied his mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done!
> 
> Wow, I was just dying to write this chapter! This one has been burning a hole in my head for weeks now. And maybe Alec was a bit out of character here, but I don’t think I care. I dunno if anyone else has done something like this for the fandom, but I’ve been searching for something like it for a while now. Finally I just gave up and decided to write it myself! 
> 
> ~~Sorry!~~ Not sorry! 
> 
> Let me know how you liked it. If you did. If you didn’t. Or just a kudos to say hello :)
> 
> \- Nonsensicatty


	4. Without Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Magnus Bane comforts a weary Alec Lightwood.

_Lead with the heart_

_Ain't that the only way_

_Keep thinking 'bout how much I changed today_

_Now I really think you're heavensent_

_'Cause you've been forcing_

_All these hollow hearts to feel again_

_Now I really think you're heavensent_

_‘Cause there's a beauty in being broken,_

_I've been seeing it_

[\- Dermot Kennedy ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ki-QoY3jgg0) 

 

There it was. That small sway.

That tiny, almost indiscernible falter in his very being as he shed his guard. As shrugged the weight of the world off his shoulders and bared himself for only Magnus’ eyes to see. As he bore all his imperfections and insecurities with bated breath in stark contrast to his brazen confidence. He was the most beautiful contradiction of anxiety and courage all in one – straight faced and steely eyed.

Magnus had been watching for it, hoping for it. He was quickly becoming quite addicted to the little high it gave him and the surprises that followed after it. The first time he’d seen it, he wasn’t sure what he’d witnessed – the moment had been lost on him. That small window of opportunity to take a conversation further and the connection deeper had been missed. And quite honestly, it only served to make matters worse between them. So now he watched. It was always so slight and subtle, yet staggering; even more so this time with Alec’s dark features against the night.

Admittedly, Magnus was momentarily taken aback by the sudden intensity he was met with. Of course, there’d always been that palpable tension between Alec’s two extremes, a friction. But this time there’d been more than he’d expected – the fierce juxtaposition was more so then he’d seen before.   

And then came the confession.

As it always did after he cast the rest off. As if the truth was too heavy, too much for him to carry on top of everything else. He couldn’t bear it all. He couldn’t bear the truth with all the pride and guilt that seemed to permanently sculpted his handsome face into stone. Couldn’t keep up appearances on top of it all. Nor did he have to… not when it was just the two of them.

Here, alone in the safety of the loft, Alec held himself barren and vulnerable.

“I let a demon in, Magnus,” he spat, not at him, but the venom was potent. Directed. Alec didn’t seek to place the blame anywhere else – never did – he bore it himself. His frustration was evident; it twisted his handsome face into something unbearable.

The display was enough to give Magnus pause, if only for a minute. To stun him for a moment before the burning concern forced its way free, passed his inhibitions, whether he meant it to or not: “That wasn’t your fault—”

But Alec was quick to shoot down Magnus’ efforts of consolation. “I don’t know what to say to Clary,” he snapped.

At this Magnus did hesitate. Whatever rational explanation he’d had to offer or magical expertise to quell Alec’s disappointment with himself died on Magnus’ tongue. Vanished. He was lost as Alec’s words truly sunk in – as they singed Magnus’ heartstrings. This wasn’t disappointment he was seeing, this was disgust. Pure and unbridled. Alec’s anguish was self-inflicted. The pain in his voice was so _raw_ , more so than Magnus had ever heard before. It stuck him silent.

For a beat, Magnus’ chest swelled with warmth. It was the entirely wrong reaction, but Magnus couldn’t fend off his sudden elation. Exhilaration. That Alec could dare confide in him. That he would expose himself so, trust Magnus with his weakness, when he’d always been so careful not to.

But with the next beat the concern came back with a stab. Not because there was any bite to Alec’s words or accusation there, but because they were so sincere – so severe.  

Alec’s brow furrowed and his warm eyes went cold. He berated himself ruthlessly as he continued, the words rushing out now. Unabashed. “I can’t _face_ her! I—” he drew in a sharp breath, as though he couldn’t get enough, the panic draining his cheeks of color.

Magnus could not let him finish that thought.

“But you will,” he interjected, grateful Alec gave up his impending condemnations with a sigh. His gaze fell away for a moment, flickered to the side in search of something to steady himself with. But there was nothing there, at least nothing to satisfy him as it was only another moment before they landed on Magnus again. Alec anchored himself there, clinging desperately to the words of comfort that still hung between them.

“Because that’s what you _do_ , Alexander,” Magnus affirmed, adoration seared into every syllable. He watched as they washed over Alec, the incredulity and desperation glimmering in his wide eyes almost sickening.

That boiled something deep in Magnus’ chest. Spiked in his blood and wrenched forth an anger he didn’t know he’d the tenacity to harness into words, “It may take you a minute, but I’ve seen it up close.” And then Alec looked away, doubt brining a stiffness back to his features. “I went to your wedding,” Magnus exclaimed exasperatedly, the memory still a soft pang in his chest. He waited there as his attempts slowly melted away the ice in Alec’s glare.

And when his gaze finally made it back to Magnus’ – just a tiny peek in his direction, but Magnus was sure to hold him there – he added, adamantly, “You’ll blow up the very ground you stand on to make something right.”

And then they both fell silent.

As if the conviction with which they’d argued their cases had drained them. There, at the end of the day, amongst the bustle of the night and dim lights of the city below, both still aching with new scars that would take years to fully heal.

And while those wounds still throbbed, Magnus couldn’t help but think to himself how nice this was. How easily they just heaved it all aside and stood vulnerable in each other’s company. Looking for healing. Magnus smiled quietly to himself, content to spend the rest of his days in this exact spot. This precious moment. He couldn’t place a finger on what it was but something about it glowed…

A minute passed. An hour? An eternity? Either way, it took him longer than Magnus expected, like he was relishing in the moment as well, but eventually Alec moved. He was always first.  

It was that tiny nervous twitch that meant he’d become uncomfortable. Whether it was with the lingering implications of the previous conversation or simply the hard metal he leaned against, Magnus couldn’t tell, but he moved towards the Shadowhunter instinctually.

Though he knew that probably wasn’t the best way to respond after such an exchange – they were both still raw. They’d picked off the scabs that’d been forming and exposed the broken skin again. Such a move could sting, cause Alec to draw back.   

Magnus simply couldn’t help himself. Thankfully, Alec was weary, and didn’t recoil.

He let Magnus step in closer, just a fraction. His bright hazel eyes raked him up and down, wary at first – calculating – but then compassionate. Inviting. Magnus took another step closer causing Alec to hold captive the breath in his lungs, but the invitation did not waver. One last step, one more glorious inch closer, and Magnus did not dare push further.

The toes of their boots tapped, shiny polish to raggedy leather; their breaths mingled in the cold evening dew. It was nice, far nicer than Magnus had expected his evening to turn out.  

Alec’s gaze was on their feet, lost in thought. A slight purse to his lips. Magnus might have worried had it not been for the light he saw there. The fire that blazed and smoldered in splices of gold and green as he analyzed with an intensity only a Shadowhunter could possess. Alec’s eyes slowly rose along Magnus’ lithe frame, wandering wildly, dancing along every precious detail he never let himself have.

It was a slow ascent, one Magnus almost wanted to blush under, until eventually – finally – Alec’s gaze lifted to Magnus’. Fire raging.

Said warlock was still as it settled on him, careful not to move or speak and scare Alec away. He kept his hands clenched tightly to his side, itching anxiously at his pockets as Alec rocked onto his feet, closing the distance between them a little more…

“Hey,” Alec croaked brokenly, his worn throat unable to adjust to the tenderness of their proximity.

“Hey yourself,” Magnus responded, smooth and soft.

At this point, it was borderline painful to hold Alec’s gaze, what with the angle said Shadowhunter towered over him. So instead, Magnus resigned his attention to Alec’s tightly pressed lips. Even as battered and chapped as they were – hints of still healing cracks along the plush ridges – they were still gorgeous. Glorious even. It was all Magnus could do to resist the urge to surge forward and take them in his own.

The change in focus was electric. Something ignited between them, tangible and powerful, enough to elicit an empty gasp from Alec. Those sinful lips parted as he faltered again with that same sway as before. A flash of confidence and uncertainty all in one.

He knew what it meant, or rather, he was beginning to. This time, rather than a confession, Alec bore a question. Wordless and instinctual. Primal even. It was a question that shouldn’t be made rational or logical, as Alec tried to force it to be. It should be physical, natural. Though still he asked it, as if there were ever a time he would be denied. _Could_ be denied.  

It was a habit Magnus fully intended to break. But not tonight. Magnus wouldn’t push them any further. Enough boundaries had been tested for one evening. Despite Alec’s immediate excitement, Magnus was close enough to see the light tremble in his hands and the tension in his shoulders.

No, not tonight. But speaking of hands.

“Let me see,” Magnus asked softly, as he dropped his gaze and held out his own hand gently. He felt the charge between them dissipate instantly, fizzle out with a silent pop and leave in its place a vacuum to suck the cold night air back between them. Thankfully.

Alec floundered for a moment, the sudden change in the mood throwing him off kilter for a beat before he mutely complied. Still too tired to argue or resist. Magnus ignored the spark his received from the contact and turned over Alec’s battered hand tenderly, careful not to disturb the angry red marks that flared on his porcelain skin. Said marks put a knot in Magnus’ stomach.

“May I?”

Alec didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. The blinding smile he tried to stifle and the chuckle he huffed out under his breath was confirmation enough. Even when he tried to politely protest, “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to.”

“But I’d very much like to,” Magnus affirmed, daring a glance back up, but he got caught on that angelic smile and had to look away. So instead, his just rubbed his thumbs into Alec’s clammy palms, slow and steady.

There was another repressed chuckle and then, defeatedly, “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viola!
> 
> I know it’s late in terms of how long ago this episode came out. But in my defense, I had finals and didn’t catch up on all the lovely Malec updates until a few days ago, and I just felt this scene needed more meta. And a happy ending.
> 
> Hope you liked it, leave me some love via one of the many buttons below, and thanks for reading!
> 
> \- Nonsensicatty
> 
>  


End file.
